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Beyond saris and ice hockey

Newly arrived in Canada, or deeply rooted here; that the
Globe and Mail extended a note of welcome to aspiring writers from especially these two
categories that compose the Canadian mosaic, was comforting. And then I got to
thinking – what if I am both, and neither, all at the same time?It wasn’t the first time I had questioned the geographic
factors behind my development as an individual. But it was the first time I recognized
the opportunity to compose a formal argument, irrespective of making it to press. My family immigrated ten years ago, so I was certainly not
newly arrived. And the fact that my relationship with the Canadian soil was a
mere decade old (unless of course, you count that geography summer project on
our choice of best country in the world from seventh grade) meant I was
technically not deeply rooted here either. Hence, began the inquest for this
essay.

India is always calling. It is the land of my birth, I take
pride in the rich cultural values it encompasses, and most importantly, it
serves as a constant reminder of the unconditional kindness (more commonly
associated with family that is innumerable in number, equal parts warm-hearted
and caring, and sometimes exists solely to feed you – until you burst – all the
scrumptiousness that constitutes the Indian palate!) that surrounded me growing
up. Canada, on the other hand, is always there. Welcoming, giving, and enveloping me not just in soft snow
and courtesy that is intravenous, but also in gifts that contribute as a whole to physical, emotional, and social
wellbeing. I never quite like it when certain acquaintances refer to it
as the ‘land of opportunity’. It makes those who migrate for a better future,
or to seek refuge, look like conniving, greedy opportunists plotting depletion of
the land’s resources for their own materialistic gain. But as much as I may not
like the associated negative connotations, said opportunities have resulted in academic, professional,
and social success for my family and for scores of others. Seventh grade was a long time ago, but I believe Canada
truly is the greatest country – to live in, to work both hard and smart, to
educate yourself and your children, to pursue a dream, to contribute to
society, and especially (should you choose) to redefine yourself!

Systemic issues exist as do in any other developed society,
but this turf lets you start over. Both
government and non-profit avenues line up to provide newly arrived immigrants (and
generations of older ones!) with the foundation and resources that are crucial
in doing so. But, and this is key… will I ever really know Canada? I discovered the Canadian city of Stratford fifteen years later than
everyone else in my tenth grade English class. Actually, no. There were a
number of other newly arrived immigrants in that class; but I don’t recall any of
them in a state of everlasting devotion
over Shakespeare’s influence in the literary world! Similarly, the pronunciation of Rideau, Chinook, and other-equally-Canadian-street-names
eluded me until not so long ago, when a marketing role based in the head office
of a national retailer revealed places in the country I had never even heard of.
I mean, how much fun does Conestoga
sound! Or, for that matter, is Medicine
Hat! Places, streets, flowers, trees, hockey and the science
behind its strategies, evolving intricacies of the land’s political and
socio-economic structure, significant periods and leaders in history, and other
such information that children simply grow up knowing – I yearn for, every
moment of every day. It is unquenchable, this thirst for knowledge and
understanding; I want to know my home
– know the land of my adolescence – the
way fellow Canadians do, and not an iota less. And in the very same manner, I want, desperately, to know my
other home – the land of my birth. The confidence with which my cousins debate on the changing
face of India, many a time leaves me with not much to contribute. I could always
comment anyway; but how valid would it be, given that my take on influence of
any kind is devoid of contemporary, functional knowledge of the society itself? Obsessively looking up Google Maps for a place from one book
or another, Wikipedia maybe for a provincial custom I saw a relative once practise,
or even a word in any of the several hundred regional languages from an obscure
part of the country now escalates into a resounding frenzy, if the results fail
to satisfy.

On trips ‘back home’ (ironic that I use this phrase
interchangeably for both Canada and
India, while in either place), I envy unabashedly complete strangers walking
around with a full head of knowledge, or even if in self-actualized oblivion. Wanting
to know a land so well that each and every reference could be the source of
conversation, or yield no need for any conversation at all, leaves me in a state of perpetual unrest. But then again, there is also the little that I do know – the Canada that exists beyond
ice hockey and its extreme winters, cultivating untiringly, opportunities for its
people. Or that, fierce ambition to succeed as a society in India – values, hand in hand – takes precedence over the saris and samosas it is more
commonly celebrated for. There is no satisfying conclusion to this yearning for both
the nations I consider home. But I know this; if it wasn’t for the one, I wouldn’t
ever be able to truly appreciate the other either. And courtesy of that fact alone, I
am willing to wait patiently.